348 



RECREATION. 



After the visitor has taken a good look 

 and has expressed his satisfaction the In- 

 dian spurs his pony, gives a yell, fires his 

 gun, and the herd is off. If on the follow- 

 ing day another visitor wishes to see the 

 herd the same tactics are repeated. It 

 sometimes happens that there are several 

 visitors a week, hence the animals are well 

 run. 



What will become of this herd is a prob- 

 lem. They are now jointly owned by 

 Michael Pablo and the heirs of the Allard 

 estate. At Christmas-tide last year sev- 

 eral of the fine old bulls were sacrificed for 

 service at the festal board. The flesh was 

 sold in the butcher shops and the heads 

 are mounted to adorn the shops. The 

 price demanded for these animals is so 

 high they are almost out of the market. 

 They cost little to keep, and since they 

 are private property, no one may object to 



any disposition that may be made of them. 

 This herd should be kept and permitted 

 to increase without being depleted. It is 

 large enough to avoid danger of extinc- 

 tion through inbreeding, and is in a re- 

 gion where range is abundant. Govern- 

 ment protection is as good as private pro- 

 tection, and the expense for one no greater 

 than for the other. An attempt is being 

 made to make a treaty with these Indians 

 so as to throw open a part of'this reserva- 

 tion for settlement. This treaty should, if 

 possible, include the change of ownership 

 of the herd from the Indians to the United 

 States. The country is open, and suitable 

 range could be easily fenced, thus reducing 

 the cost of protection and the liability to 

 injury by poachers. Something should be 

 done to save the herd from being scattered 

 and annihilated. 



TO DASH. 



BOONE. 



Cold is thy bed to-night, 



And deep the sleep that binds thee! 

 So cold, so deep, they still shall be 



When light of morning finds thee! 



For thou art dead, my dog! 



The day has brought us parting; 

 And at the thought my heart still aches 



And bitter tears are starting. 



The morning brought to me 



Thy gentle, honest greeting; 

 But when, at evening, I return, 



For me no more there's greeting! 



Farewell, my noble dog! 



My heart is wrung for thee; 

 Would God I'd to my Master been 



As true as thou to me! 



My noble dog, farewell! 



Thy part, thy lot are done; 

 That part and lot shall dwell with us 



While I behold the sun! 



